Drunken Master

As a young, sometimes obedient, sometimes horny, child growing up in a muslim Pakistani/Italian* household in Essex it was inevitable that I would try the forbidden Alcohol at some point. 

I still remember my first taste of A-it was at a family friend's house (I think) and with everyone distracted in the dining/living room, I (about 5 or 10 yo) found some glasses in the sink with a drop of whiskey. Cue a quick sip and exit. As a large lad, this first foray was not enough to have any effect really, but I was committed to the whole experience in my head and so followed all the films I had seen and started acting drunk in my room. Indeed I think I beat up my uncle's little son, little Mo, because the last film I had seen involved a drunken man and violence (thank god I didn't see a drunken man doing something else, otherwise my sister's Barbie would have got it). I think I also even tried slurring my words. 

I blame Amitabh Bachchan and his 80's classic film Shaarabi for pushing me over the edge. He just looked so cool being drunk. And he was a Brown Guy (TM) too, especially a Brown Guy (TM), who knew how to dress well (with shoulder pads that fit). Even now when I feel lost and need some geeing up I return to that movie. 

In the time since then, wine, beer and sprits have provided some fun filled evenings for me over the years. But there have been some sad moments too. I remember once being introduced to a rather pretty girl and our connection was, as my Latin friends would say in their rather emotive expression, beautiful.  Everything was going smoothly then she directed the conversation to one question. I should have guessed what this probably was, given her religious/cultural leanings:

Pretty Girl (PG): TAB, do you mind if I ask you a very frank question

TAB: Look, I don't live with my parents [trying to be funny and play on Asian boy stereotypes, hoping she gets the message that I don't take myself too seriously]

PG: No seriously. It is just that I think you are cool, but I don't want to waste both our time, because there are some things that I hold dear. 

TAB: Sure [all the time thinking what happened to the PG of 5 mins ago]

PG: Do you drink? It is just that..

TAB: Yes, I do. 

PG: Then I am sorry but you know, I am sure you are a nice guy, but this is important to me and I can't really be with someone who does. 

TAB: Fine, but you know...[I was about to say that I am quite philosophical about this, but then realised that I had just met this chick]

The funny thing about this story is that the conversation could quite easily have gone like this:

PG: Do you drink? It is just that..

TAB: No, I don't.

PG: Phew I just wanted to make sure

TAB: Sure, but I should let you know that I have stuck a few ferrets up my arse from time to time, had sex with meesri (on which see below) and used to smoke 5 bags of weed a day.

PG: That is fine, it is just drinking for me is a vice. You know religion/culture...

Luckily for me I got out of that although I am still looking for my liberian girl. If I had more energy and was not too sensitive to the fact that this post is probably past its read-by date/stage by now, I would tie all of the above with my main point: Mooli's should consider serving alcohol in its late night shift. Not least for my sacrifices. Please. 

*probably fiction